


blood on my sleeve

by CallicoKitten



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Church Sex, Episode Related, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, a lot probably, forgive me Father for I have sinned, idiot boys in love, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:56:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cass smells like smoke and salt and whiskey, he presses bodily along Jesse, mouths his way across the back of Jesse's neck. He musta come in real quiet-like. Else Jesse's hollering a lot louder than he thought.</p><p>"You owe me this, Padre," Cass breathes. He runs his tongue along Jesse's neck, starts down near his shoulder, licks a hot stripe up towards his ear. "You owe me this."</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood on my sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> this show is the best thing that's happened to me for a good long while
> 
> takes place immediately after episode 7
> 
> title from sufjan steven's drawn to the blood

His hands are raw and cut to pieces, more blood and splinters than skin before Cass comes and finds him.

He's pulled up near half the floorboards, scrabbling at the bone dry earth beneath his daddy's church and hell, if his old man were still around he'd flay Jesse alive. _Come back. Come back, come back, come **back.**_ His finger nails are snapped and broken, there's blood in his nail beds.

Blood in the loose dry earth.

Cass smells like smoke and salt and whiskey, he presses bodily along Jesse, mouths his way across the back of Jesse's neck. He musta come in real quiet-like. Else Jesse's hollering a lot louder than he thought.

"You owe me this, Padre," Cass breathes. He runs his tongue along Jesse's neck, starts down near his shoulder, licks a hot stripe up towards his ear. "You owe me this."

His arms come up around him, his hands clasp Jesse's, hold them still. His voice is thick with _something._

" _Jesse,_ " Cass growls. He runs his teeth along Jesse's pulse point. They're sharp. Sharper than Jesse could ever have dreamed.

Jesse shudders. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about this. He's never really looked twice at anyone but Tulip but there's just something about Cass. Something about his long limbs and his long fingers and his filthy, filthy mouth.

He's being quiet now, quieter than Jesse's ever seen him, breathing in and out, slow and deep, like he's steadying himself, like it's all he can do not to tear Jesse's throat out right this second.

Cass's thumbs are stroking over Jesse's hands. Cass's hips are rocking, rhythmically.

 _Fuck,_ Jesse thinks. Jesse breathes.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "Yes. Yeah, I suppose I do, Cass. I suppose I do."

The first bite stings but _fuck,_ it stings so damn _good._ Jesse arches against it, Cass lets go of one of his hands, grips his throat instead, yanks it to the side so the blood flows more freely and Jesse whines, " _Cass._ "

Cass's chest is heaving against his back.

Jesse's getting light-headed, starting to see stars. His eyelids flutter.

His pants are starting to feel tight.

( _It's a sin. Godly men don't ache for demons, don't go weak in the knees for abominations._

 _Then again, Jesse's always felt like a fraud. Like a kid in his daddy's clothes._ )

Cass's tongue follows his teeth, lapping at Jesse's throat.

"Cass," Jesse gasps because _fuck -_ he wants - he needs - He doesn't get to finish, Cass is yanking him back, dragging him away from the hole he's dug and flipping him onto his back.

The burns across his back and shoulders are disappearing, his eyes are dark, his pupils blown. His mouth is bloody, "Tell you what, Preacher," he says, a wicked grin curling his lips. "You were worth the wait."

Cass licks his lips and kisses him, hot and wet and coppery. Jesse rises to meet him, his hands come up instinctively, brush against Cass's side but Cass snatches them away, pins them above Jesse's head by the wrists.

"Now, now, Jess," he says, against Jesse's mouth. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves now."

He shoves a knee between Jesse's thighs and Jesse ruts up against it like a school kid, like a filthy mutt. "Cass," he pants, "Fuck, Cass, _please._ "

It's been too long, way too long and Cass is everywhere. One hand runs down his chest, slips open his shirt, thumb swipes down low, under Jesse's waistband, the other yanks Jesse's head back, wound through his hair, tugging roughly. His throat his pale and bared and Cass sucks mark after mark after mark.

He yanks Jesse's trousers down, shoves his fingers into Jesse's mouth. "Somethin' tells me you know what to do, Preacher," he says, his voice heavy.

And _god,_ Jesse does. Jesse really does.

He hasn't done this since he was a kid, after his daddy died when he was on the road and looking for Tulip. When he'd do what he had to to pay his way or maybe he just liked the way that guy at the bar winked at him.

Cass is taking his sweet time about it. This is revenge, Jesse thinks.

" _Christ,_ Cass," he growls. "Just _fuck me_."

Cass grins, slow and easy, "Like I said, Jess. We're not in a hurry now, are we?"

When he finally presses in, Jesse's mad with it, arching and writhing and so fucking _desperate._ He'd be singing Cass' praises, he thinks, reciting hymns and bible verses and committing every kind of sacrilege in the books but Cass is keeping him quiet, swallowing his moans and whines and benedictions with his clever tongue.

When they're done Cass intertwines their fingers lazily, looks down at Jesse with something like resignation and Jesse wants to say, _we ain't what you think, Cass_ or _I ain't like that_ or _we can't,_ but he doesn't. He closes his eyes, leans his forehead against Cass' chest. It's kind of nice.

He's so godamned tired. He ain't had a good night's sleep since his daddy died. Before that, maybe.

He's so godamned tired.

"I fucked up, Cass," he murmurs.

"Yeah," Cass agrees. He touches Jesse's hair gently. "But you've nothing on me, Jess. Don't you go making a competition of it."

Jesse's eyes are wet suddenly. He blinks them away. Custer's don't cry and if they did, he's got no right to it. He's condemned an innocent to hell.

"Cass - " Jesse starts, he's going to apologise but his voice breaks.

"Hey now," Cass rumbles. "We'll sort this out, won't we? We'll call those nice British lads and get you sorted. You'll be right as rain. No idea what we'll do about arse-face but - "

" _Eugene,_ " Jesse corrects.

"Eugene, then. But we'll figure something - " He breaks off. "Do you feel that?"

The ground starts to shake. The church creaks around them. Cass, rather unnecessarily, holds Jesse under him, shields him from the dust that falls from the rafters.

"Did you do that?" he asks, when the world has stopped shaking.

"No," Jesse says, weakly.

There's a sound outside like a megaphone running in to feedback and then Odin Quincannon's voice rings out loud across the night, "We had a deal, Preacher."

Above him, Cass sighs. "You know, I always thought small towns were supposed to be dull, you know?" He stands up, dragging Jesse with him. "This is exhausting. I don't know how you keep up, Jess, I really don't."

Jesse smiles faintly. "Well, in all honesty it was a lot duller before you showed up, Cass."


End file.
